


Forever This Way

by Aryamuh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Very-vague-Makeout-Session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryamuh/pseuds/Aryamuh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson has been swept off his feet by Sherlock Holmes  at the moment they met. If it took him much longer to realize this, that is of no significance as he is not planning to act on his feelings anyway.</p><p>Until a rainy evening in central London when time seems to stand still and feelings are too hard to be kept at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever This Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much shameless fluff. It contains no trigger element whatsoever. If you are in the mood for angsty man-pain or steamy smut, This fic is not for you. But if you are tired of all the dark and sad Johnlock and just want some fluffy slow love, Go right ahead.  
> Enjoy! ~
> 
> XXX

                                                                             'Feels so good inside your arms,

                                                                              Home is everywhere you are.

                                                                              Say that you'll stay-

                                                                              Forever this way.

                                                                              Forever and forever,

                                                                              That we'll never have to change'

                                                                                                            - Jewel

 

 

 **J** ohn Watson entered the flat and slammed the door shut behind him. The monotonous drizzle of London weather hasn't let up in the past few days and he was getting rather tired of it. John hung his damp coat up in the hallway and entered the living room. He wondered if Sherlock's home. The detective's not been doing too well since the last case and he refused to let John in on the secret of his unease as well as prohibiting him from inspecting Sherlock for any kind of illness. It was all a bit annoying if John was honest with himself. He was left with doing nothing but stewing silently in his worry and hoping the obnoxious grumpy bastard recovered by himself. He looked around with a huff and stilled.

 

Sherlock was indeed home.

 

And he was curled up on the sofa like a cat. Breathing softly, face red and cheeks blotchy with what, if John didn’t know better; he’d say a rather impressive blush.

 

John walked over to him and surreptitiously listened to his breathing. Sherlock didn’t seem to be in pain, only uneasy. His breathing was slightly erratic and strained. A quick touch on the forehead assured John that he wasn’t running a fever at least.

 

At a loss about what to do, John sat himself down slowly on the sofa beside Sherlock’s head and stared. He was beautiful. This wasn’t a revelation he just stumbled upon. John has been aware of his not-so-platonic love for the other man for quite some time now. But he knew better than to try to act on it. Therefore he kept his hands, and his thoughts; to himself and did his best to not stare at Sherlock all day, settling for occasional stolen glances instead. But sitting beside the curled up and red faced sleeping Sherlock; John thought he looked strangely vulnerable and almost ethereal in beauty. It took all his will power to not cuddle up behind Sherlock and hold him close.

 

John let out a quiet sigh. He stared out moodily through the open window at the drizzle that seemed to have gotten heavier rather than letting up. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand crossed the few inches of space between his hand and Sherlock’s head and started slowly running fingers through his hair. John chuckled quietly at how soft the dark curls were. Almost like a cat’s fur. Human hair should not be this soft, he thought amusedly. He kept running his fingers through the curls softly and felt pleased as he heard the sleeping man’s breathing even out completely.

 

Sherlock let out a blissful sigh and purred loudly. John smiled contentedly. In a quick burst of courage he leaned down and peppered light kisses on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock’s only response was to lean into the kisses. A sleepy, purring Sherlock could give puppies a run for their money in cuteness, John mused.

 

Wait, what? **_Purring?_** Humans don’t ‘ **purr’.** John sat there dumbfounded. He didn’t notice that his fingers have stopped dead in their tracks until-

 

Sherlock **hissed.**

 

He hissed and moodily nudged John’s hand with his head. Moving closer and curling himself again right against John. At that moment he seemed exactly like a huge cat with a deceivingly human appearance.

 

Still in shock, John slowly resumed stroking the soft curls. Sherlock’s low purr continued.

 

After what seemed to be the better part of an hour and with aching fingers John made to extricate himself from the sofa when long fingers entwined with his own. A sleepy voice mumbled,

 

“Don’t go, John.”

 

John let out a bark of surprised laughter.

 

“Sherlock, you’re up?  Go back to your nap.  Sun’s already down. I should turn on the lights and fix myself a cuppa.”

 

Sherlock merely grumbled and tugged harder on John’s fingers. He opened his eyes slowly and peered blearily at John through dark lashes. One look into those demanding, moody, beautiful, grumpy eyes and John knew he was fighting a lost battle. He let out an exasperated breath and sat back down. Sherlock wasted no time and almost climbed onto his lap. He hid his face in john’s jumper and sighed. John put his arms loosely around the warm ball of consulting detective on his lap and inhaled. Sherlock smelled like the rain. The rain and lemon. Spicy yet soothing. John went back to stroking his hair. After a few minutes, he was so absorbed in his task that he almost missed the words mumbled into his chest. He opted to ask,

 

“Hmm? Sorry I didn’t catch that. Speak up, please?”

 

“Do that thing again.” Was the low and moody reply.

 

“Do what thing? I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific. If you mean stroking your hair, I already am.” John said with a smile.

 

“Don’t be an idiot, John! If you had been obviously doing it already I wouldn’t have asked! The other thing!”

 

“The other thing being?” John was feeling quite lost.

 

“You know! GAH come on, use your ridiculously tiny brain!” For all his righteous anger, Mumbling into someone’s chest while cuddling with them tended to take the bite out of mean words.

 

“You know Sherlock; If I knew I clearly wouldn’t be asking.” John started getting a bit irritated.

 

“The kiss thing!” Sherlock grumbled unhappily.

 

John’s breath hitched and he felt somewhat numb. He took a moment to compose himself and managed to get the words out,

 

“Uhm. You felt that? I-  I’m sorry If  I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t’-”

 

“No, Stop. You can’t think that your feelings are unknown to me! Who do you think I am, John? Anderson? No, scratch that. It’s not possible for anyone to be as much of an idiot as Anderson. I could read your affection for me in your posture and words up to 97% accuracy. The kisses merely confirmed it. Now shut up and do that again.” Sherlock scoffed.

 

John felt heavy as a stone and light as a feather all at once. He hid his wide smile in Sherlock’s hair.

 

“You don’t mind, then?”

 

“Why would I?”

 

John carefully lifted Sherlock’s face and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Sherlock seemed to melt into the kiss and his hands bunched up the material of John’s jumper.

 

After what seemed to be an eternity of slick push-pull of lips and slides of tongue on tongue John pulled back slightly and rested his forehead on Sherlock’s. Waiting for both of them to catch their breaths and come down from the high.

 

He opened his eyes slowly to find a bright blue-green pair staring right into them.

 

“I love you. Oh God, I love you” John blurted out.

 

The hitch in Sherlock’s breath and the shine in his eyes told John all he needed to know that his feelings weren’t unrequited.

 

“Might be dangerous.”  Sherlock mumbled.

 

“I knew that already. And I can’t seem to care” John replied simply.

 

“That’s because you’re an idiot.” Sherlock said as he let out a relieved breath.

 

John kissed the insufferable git to shut him up.

 

Outside, the rain came down harder. The wind blew viciously and thunder rumbled.

 

And for that moment, inside one 221/B Baker Street flat, everything was perfect.

 

**-FIN-**


End file.
